


My neck, my back...

by Skyforged (Travelilah)



Series: Naturally [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awkwardness, Bagels, Consequences, F/M, Humor, Sexting, Wintershock that is shocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 15:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15932921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Travelilah/pseuds/Skyforged
Summary: It finally clicks and she laughs. “Babe, that’s fine. You’ve got a lock on your phone, so no-one will be able to get to them!”“Uh…”She freezes up. “You do have a lock on your phone right?”“No...I’ve never had one.” She barely hears him, his words mumbled and she knows he’s probably beating himself up with guilt now, but the creepy texts over and phone calls...it suddenly all makes sense.





	My neck, my back...

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, another awkward Wintershock one shot for your reading pleasure! Set after “Not the brightest bulb…”  
> Please do let me know if you love or hate it! Any critique you have please do send it through. Any funny ideas you have for this universe I seem to be creating feel free to drop a suggestion through via tumblr: skyforgedsoul.tumblr.com  
> Last note, if anyone has any skills in betaing and likes Wintershock, lemme know, I am plotting out a big story and would love a second pair of eyes to look over it and make sure that it’s not just random words put together!

Her neck is _killing_ her.

Not literally, because that would be weird, but as in she can barely move it without fire racing down her spine, setting her nerve endings ablaze, making her groan in pain. That’s _if_ she can even manage to move it. Seriously, her neck feels so stiff, she worries it’ll snap off if she turns it the wrong way or that she’s possibly even broken something. Sure, it might just be her inner hypochondriac talking, but anything is possible these days.

 _Technically_ , it’s her own fault that she’s in this much pain, but she’ll never admit it out loud.

It comes from being hunched over a computer all day. Also, maybe rearranging her furniture didn’t help, or that she fell asleep on the couch...and maybe when the twinging started a few days ago she should’ve done her prescribed stretches, put a heat pack on it and rested up, but that’s just not possible for her.  

She ain’t got time to be sick or any of that weak ass shit. No, she’s got six Labs to run and keep from bursting into spontaneous combustion; not to mention three ~~pain in the ass evil geniuses~~ scientists to herd and a plethora of minions to coral into submission.

‘Sides, she’s had issues with her neck before and she knows it’s nothing that a good massage won’t fix (one from a metal arm that never grows tired been the preferable option).

But as the day goes on, afternoon turning into early evening, the ache gets worse and worse. Her head is throbbing and vision beginning to go fuzzy from pain before she gives in and decides it might be time to take a break from her command station of four screens.

Stiffly, she pulls herself away from the desk, pushes her chair back and stands up. It feels so nice to stretch her legs and move her muscles around. It’s hard for her to resist the temptation of trying to crack her neck. She distracts herself by giving her toes a wiggle, fighting off the start of pins and needles.

She frowns as she slowly lowers her neck look contemplatively down at her bare toes, admiring the way the pretty blue glitter polish reflects in the fluorescent office light. Enclosed shoes are what should be covering them right now because even though her office is the safest place on this floor, it still counts as part of the Lab so the safety rules still apply. But this is one of the perks in being the boss, she can take her shoes off and no one can say jack shit about it. But if she wants to source some food, she knows that she’ll need to put her shoes back on, as she’s meant to be a leading example of Lab Safety and all that jazz, but she really can’t be fucked bending over, risking neck moment, just to fish out her shoes for a quick trip down to the common kitchen.

Mind made up, she tucks her chair back in under her desk, pockets her phone and heads off down the hall to the kitchen, already imaging what she can make for lunch. Her stomach grumbles on the way, encouraging her fantasies of food and elaborate banquets. She knows she won’t have time to make a full on spread, so she’ll have to settle for a snack.

An image of a freshly toasted bagel springs to mind and her mind is set.

Yeah, a bagel sounds really fucking good.

As she pads softly down the hall, she smiles as she catches the eye of the odd minion when they look up through the Lab’s glass to watch her walk by. At least they look her in the eye now. For a while there, they’d been giving her the side eye or just outright stare at her when she walked by.

That’s all behind her now, or so she likes to think. Truth be told, there will never be any forgetting the _Flashlight_ incident, not in this century. _Somehow_ the whole Lab had found out the snafu, sordid details and all (she blames Tony to this day). Images of the contraption itself had been pinned up in random places. And a stupid number of batteries were and are still getting delivered to her office.

The laughing stock of the office is what she’d become. She’s never been one to let something like gossip or a rumour mill get her down so she’d taken it in stride. Making herself laugh along with them.

Whenever someone brings it up on the odd occasion, she jokes along about it, because it’s her only option. If she doesn’t her over-protective Bucky Bear will be out for blood and she doesn’t need that kind of paperwork in her life.

Making it to the kitchen it’s like her lunch was meant to be. There’s exactly one bagel left with the makings for a salad in the fridge. Her eyes slide pass the clear bowl of lettuce and other greenery to land on the tub of Nutella.

She hesitates for a second. Eyes darting back and forth between the jar and the salad. She snorts at herself and reaches in to grab the chocolate spread of deliciousness. She’s not fooling anyone, least of all herself. No way she’d ever pick healthy over chocolate. That’s just not her style.

Shifting over to the bench, she starts assembling her masterpiece. Nutella, upon layers of Nutella she puts into the bagel. She’s looking down at her creation with pride when she feels her pocket beginning to vibrate.

She frowns as she reaches into the denim and pulls out her StarkPhone.

_Incoming call: Unknown Number._

She eyes the screen warily. She always hesitates to accept calls from unknown numbers. Being a poor college student back in the day and knowing that’s what the debt collectors used...it’s been a hard habit to break ever since. This week’s taken the cake though with the unknown numbers.

At odd hours of the day, she’s been receiving the weirdest fucking text messages from a shit tonne of different numbers. She knows it’s probably a prank. Somewhere along the line, someone’s given out her number so she doesn’t think much about it. Dark Elves are way creepier than some fuck heads trying to impress her with their limp noodles. She’s smart enough to not answer any of the random numbers either because she just knows that there’s most likely a heavy breathing pervert on the end of the line.

Rolling her eyes, she lets it ring out and works on putting the finishing touches to her bagel.

She takes a step back to admire her work. It’s a culinary wet dream on that plate right now. Honestly, it’s almost a shame that she’s about to ~~consume~~ eat it. Proud of her work, she grabs her phone to take a few quick pictures of it so she can post it up on Insta later. You know, after she’s eaten it.

Just as she picks up her phone and starts to punch in her pin, a call drops in.

_Incoming call: Steve Rogers._

She furrows her brows and stares at the phone. Trying to figure out why the hell Steve would be calling her for. He’s meant to be away on a mission with Bucky, well the whole damn team really. She’s not heard from any of them for a few days now come to think of it, that includes Bucky and if Steve’s calling before him something bad must’ve happened.

Snapping a thumb to the green phone, she answers the call, bringing the phone up to her ear with a shaky hand. At first, all she hears is static.

 _“_ Steve, you there?”

She holds her breath, waiting for him to reply.

 _“Darcy, yeah, I’m here, sorry, bad line!”_ comes his voice in crackly waves.

She lets out a sharp exhale in relief. “Thank god, are you alright? Why are you calling instead of Bucky, is he alright?” The questions tumble out of her mouth, faster than she can think of them.

 _“Whoa, slow down, Darcy, we’re both fine”_ he replies, still sounding really fuzzy like there are a million buzzing into the microphone at the same time. The noise hurts her ears so she pulls the phone away. _“I tried to call earlier but realised it was on a Private Number.”_

“It’s really hard to hear you, but whatever. What’s going on? Why are you calling?”

_“Nothing, just checking in.”_

She snorts. “Yeah, right.” Steve never just checks in. “Why are you calling, really? Did Bucky get shot in the ass, again?” It might’ve been one time, but knowing those two boys, it wasn’t impossible for it to of happened again.

Steve chuckles, she thinks. It’s so hard to tell if it’s him laughing or the fucked up phone line. “No. Darce. He’s fine, just–”

She doesn’t let him finish. “Steven Grant Rogers,” she snaps, knowing full well that he hates hearing his full name. “If you let my boyfriend get shot in the ass again, I will murder you. I love that ass, and you’re meant to protect it!”

“ _Darcy! I don’t–”_ Steve chokes on his words. She loves how easy it is to rattle him sometimes.

“Don’t what Steve? Don’t want to protect the finest ass in America? You could bounce a quarter of it, but it doesn’t mean it’s bulletproof!” Not knowing when to quit is a flaw of her’s so she keeps up with the teasing, knowing if something was seriously wrong then Steve would’ve spilt the beans by now.

Steve makes another strangled sound, and she worries that she’s broken him. Frowning, she wonders if the line has dropped out. But then, _“Babe?”_ comes through the speaker and she nearly weeps tears of joy.

God, it’s such a fucking relief to hear his voice. It’s been too long, well anything past two days is too long in her books. In reality, it’s been about a week since she’s felt the prickle of his stubble on her neck, smelt his clean scent or felt his strong arms wrapped around her.

“Hey,” she whispers back, hating how weak her voice sounds. “I’ve missed you soldier boy.”

 _“I missed you too, doll,_ ” he confesses and it makes her want to damned melt.

Just as she’s about to reply, her stomach grumbles. Right, food. Looking at the phone, she looks down at the bagel and realises the predicament that she’s in.

“Shit,” she mutters to herself. She knows that she needs two hands for the bagel she wants to inhale but she still wants to keep talking to her boyfriend. Good thing that she’s the fucking champion of multi-tasking.

_“Sorry, what?”_

“Nothing, nothing, babe, sorry. Just trying to figure something out,” she explains quickly while trying to manoeuvre the phone. Eventually, she manages to get the phone in place. She’s got it at an awkward angle, balanced between her shoulder and cheek.

But it means she can keep the conversation going in between mouthfuls and neck strain.

“ _Ok…_ ”

“Sorry, just trying to have lunch and talk to you at the same time,” she says before finally stuffing her mouth with the bagel. It’s heaven. Pure heaven.

She lets out a loud moan with no shame. Really, that’s how fucking good it is.

It might just be her imagination but through the crackling noise, she swears that she hears Bucky curse under his breath before he asks, “ _Dace, what the fuck are you doing?_ ”

“Eating the best bagel ever,” is what she meant to say, but through a mouthful, she knows it probably doesn’t sound anything like that.

Bucky seems to have understood her, as he snarks back, “ _Oh really? Better than my BLT breakfast bagel?”_

She only hums in responses, too busy devouring the chocolate sustenance.

He snorts at her response. “ _Glad to know you’re okay, babe.”_ He sighs. “ _Sorry, I didn’t call you earlier, Darce, things have just been really hectic out here and I haven’t had the time.”_

“S’kay,” she replies through another mouthful, her second last if her calculations are correct. She’ll chew him out for the lack of calls, as soon as she finishes chewing.

“ _And I’m in one piece, I promise.”_

Swallowing the last mouthful, she finally lets rip. “Yeah, right. Your definition of one piece or mine? And you better be sorry Bucky Barnes! I’ve been going out of my mind. Just tell me, are you okay? And don’t try and play it down, alright, give it to me straight.”

There’s silence for a moment, before he admits, _“Yeah, I’m fine.”_

“What’s wrong?” she prods, licking a bit of Nutella off her fingers.

“ _Nothing!”_ he insists.

“Ahuh, not buying that James Buchannan. Spill it.”

He sighs again, it’s one of resignation this time, that much she's able to tell over the phone. She adjusts her head slightly, putting the phone back in her hand which is now free and regrets it as soon as she hearts her neck crack. She risks moving it again, trying to straighten it out and can’t help but grunt in pain.

 _“What was that?”_ he asks sharply, somehow hearing her bones crunching.

“Just my neck, don’t worry,” she says, before getting back on topic.  “What’s wrong with you? Why are you using Steve’s phone?”

 _“Lemme guess, I’m gonna be massaging it for you when I get home? What about your back, that need a massage too?”_ he teases.

  
She knows that he’s trying to avoid her questions. “Bucky,” she warns, “What’s wrong?”

 _“Uh, about that…”_ She can hear the stress in his voice though.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” she pushes. “What happened? Did HYDRA hack your phone and try and brainwash you?”

 _“No, babe,_ _nothing like that_ ,” he laughs before switching to his serious tone. _“But something did happen. I um, I lost my phone. I’m so sorry.”_

“Oh.”

She blinks. She’s confused. Why is that such a big deal? People lose their phones all the time.

_“Yeah, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to. I think it fell out of my pocket when we were moving in and I haven’t seen it since, Tuesday. “_

“Sweetie, what are you apologising to me for?”

 _“Darcy,”_ his voice is strangled, as he explains. _“There were pictures on there.”_

She still doesn’t get it. “Sweetie, lots of people have pictures on their phone and they are backed up on the cloud, so they aren’t gone forever. I thought we talked about that whole wireless storage thing.”

“ _That’s not why I’m stressing, Darcy!_ _There were personal photos, Darce. Those ones that you sent to me...I, um…_ ”

It finally clicks and she laughs. “Babe, that’s fine. You’ve got a lock on your phone, so no-one will be able to get to them!”

“ _Uh…”_

She freezes up. “You do have a lock on your phone right?”

“ _No...I’ve never had one.”_ She barely hears him, his words mumbled and she knows he’s probably beating himself up with guilt now, but the creepy texts over and phone calls...it suddenly all makes sense.

“Bucky...did you delete any of the photos?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer, as the phone call drops out. She’s left staring at the phone in horror of what she’s just been told. She quickly pops over to her web browser and does a reverse image search and is in horror of what she finds.

Her neck, her back, her pussy and her crack. Spread out. All over the internet.

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself, scrolling through all of the images that had just been meant for her boyfriend's eyes only.

Well, shit.

How’s she meant to explain this one to the Media department?

 


End file.
